Kissing A Fool
by Tigerdust
Summary: Michael Buble's song is the backdrop for a nod to film noir, Oz style. Beecher,Keller as the main focus of the story, song in bold. I own no rights to Oz or characters therein.
1. Chapter 1

Private dick Christopher Keller sat alone in the small round booth. It was dark in the corner of the club, the way he preferred it. The smoke itself from the patrons was dense enough, even though his eyes penetrated through most of the fog. He rolled an ice cube through his fingers, examining the world through the strange texture. It had been a long week.

The dame had come first. She used to be a nun, a somebody with connection to God, who gave it up for a priest. Now the priest runs off with a younger dame and this Marie is desperate to find him. _Dames_, Chris snorts, _who'll ever understand him?_ Keller's blood is coursing loosely in his veins. After so many shots in the office and adding to the couple he's had here, well, he imagines that he can indeed feel his blood.

Detective Keller is bored with his life. It's the same lost soul after the same lost soul in this drenched and blackened city. It's the same jazz club night after night. The same women on the same corners with come hither glares. Chris doesn't bother anymore. He knows that he wouldn't even have to pay them if he didn't want to. Make no mistake, most nights he just doesn't want to with them.

The waiter comes by, some skinny Asian punk with soft eyes and a softer demeanor. He's a little limp-wristed even for Keller. Another shot of liquid forgetfulness, another long ride in a taxi cab home to a place he can't afford with infested stuff in it from the Stone Age. One four post best with ratted, graying sheets from lack of washing. A chest of drawers with some drawers crammed in them. Old copies of newspapers spilled all about his torn-up couch that a dead neighbor lost privileges to.

_What a shit of a life_, Keller thinks, _but at least I'm not that guy_. The bouncer's been eyeing him for awhile now. He's an older gentleman, but Keller's got no doubt that he could lay any punk flat that's eager enough to take him on. He's flipping a coin around in his hand, assuming an aura of boredom, but he's just killing time. That's what the man seems to do. He seems to enjoy the thrill of killing. Sadistic bastard.

Chris was about to get up when he saw something through the mist of smoke and haze. It was a new crooner of some kind. Hell, weren't they popping up everywhere? But this one was different. His eyes were tinged with a sort of innocence, a cute kind of purity. He wasn't the most angelic in the place. Hell, being a patron here meant that you'd fallen far enough from grace to patronize the Em Club. So what was this kid's story?

**You are far**

Maybe kid was the wrong word. Keller had stopped mid-reach for his jacket and was now sitting at the moment. One arm was slung casually down under the table and across his leg, the other rubbing against his chin. Somewhere along the line, his tie had been loosened and his hat titled a bit askew. But this new kid seemed to be singing right to him. And the kid could sing.

**I could have been your star**

His hair was a little longer, even when it was slicked back. Chris could tell by the way it curled ever so slightly at the back of his neck. He was lean, but that was the case for most men of the age. He moved with a certain wisdom and grace, a sad poise in some ways. He wasn't wasting talents being at the Em Club. He was picking up new ones. Chris mused to himself. _Daddy paid for college and now look what he got for it._

**But you listened to people**

Private eye Keller just stared during the short set. Beecher smiled a few times in his general direction, but there wasn't a way that he could notice between the spotlight and the haze. So, Keller figured, he'd best take the initiative. He grabbed his coat for good this time. The creepy Bouncer Schilly craned his neck as Keller hustled past. MacManus, the owner, put his hand out to the bouncer. Schilly went back to flipping his coin through his fingers with an air of boredom all around him.

**Who scared you to death and from my heart**

Keller almost missed Beecher on the short walk back to the dressing rooms. "Hey." Keller barked.

"I'm busy," Beecher replied without even turning as he pealed right back into his dressing room and shut the door a little louder than was necessary.

Keller shook his head. A closed door had never deterred him before. There was no response to the first or second knock. Chris grinned to himself as he turned the doorknob and found it unlocked. He entered without excuse, but Beecher didn't notice. He wasn't even looking in the mirror.

**Strange that you were strong enough to even make a start**

"You did a pretty good set tonight. I should know; I've met all the singers of Em."

Beecher halted as he was moving his shot glass back over to his decanter of alcohol for another serving. "Thanks."

**You'll never find peace of mind until you find your heart**

Keller plopped himself down on the couch and pointed at the decanter while grabbing an apple from the little table on the side with a bowl of fruit on top. "You'd best be careful not to pack too much away."

Beecher turned in his chair, bemusement playing across his face. "Who are you exactly?"

Keller leapt up from the couch and extended his hand. "Chris Keller."

Beecher took the hand and then spun back around as Chris waited for a response. "Mr. Keller, do you not consider it rude to barge into my dressing room and tell me about my drinking habits?"

Keller sunk back down on the couch. "Well, that wasn't my first intention."

"And what was your intention?"

"A couple of laughs."

Beecher stared at Keller defiantly from the mirror. "I have more than enough laughs and enough friends, Mr. Keller. I'd suggest you go find some of your own."

Keller's face fell a bit. He took a long time to stand and stretch, finally heading for the door. He opened the door and paused for just a moment over the threshold. "You never told me your name."

"Tobias Beecher." Beecher rubbed his forehead, the base from the room making his skin itch slightly.

"Well, Toby," Keller began," I've met a lot of people whose lives have been ruined. And I don't think you should go ruining yours like this. Not that it's any of my business."

"It's not. Goodbye Mr. Keilor."

Chris nodded, sighing. "It's Keller." _Fine_, Keller thought, _I can play hardball too_. And then he smiled as he took the back exit. After all, he was pretty good at playing the waiting game.


	2. Chapter 2

There's a dame with Keller next time he's at the Em. Her name is Shirley. She's a ritzy dame that showed up at his office on the wrong side of town with problems. Just imagine the kind of problems money builds up in someone's life. Must be nice. She didn't know what they were there for.

**People**

"Why couldn't we have met in your office?" Her eyes have that somewhat frightened and very intrigued quality that he sees once to often in dames, especially in his line of work with his mysterious body language floating between them.

**You can never change the way they feel**

"Baby, I took your case. We'll meet here because then you won't have to ruin that pretty white mink of yours elsewhere." He gives her the patented Keller smile and she blushes, looking down at her tennis bracelet with fake fascination.

**Better let them do just what they will**

"Well, there's just so many other places we could meet that would be just as non-descript." Shirley's whining a bit. Keller wonders why she doesn't just say what she means with her slight Southern quiver in her throat. Shirley is afraid of being here. She's afraid of the bouncer, who still hasn't dropped that same damn coin since Keller became a regular. She's afraid of the quietly intelligent bartender Sid as well, though it's not so common for a bartender of the African nature to be the lead bartender here.

**For they will**

Truth is, Keller hasn't missed a performance of Beecher's. They've been here, week after week, Beecher and Keller the only two constants in one of those ever-changing world scenarios. It never fails. He'll be here in the midst of dinner, even daring Beecher to say one thing while he eats his Chinese crap on the couch. He'll be working reconnaissance for a case and then he'll hear the time over the radio and he'll drop the mooch that he already knew was cheating with the sister.

**If you let them still your heart from you-People**

Most nights he goes backstage to the dressing room. He stares and it clearly unnerves Beecher, who's not used to the kind of attention he's receiving. Beecher's a trooper though, never calling out for the bouncer or MacManus. He just watches Keller watching him take drink after drink, letting the slow poison work its way throughout his body. Occasionally, Keller will catch him dragging a bit of snuff from the parchment in his inner pocket. But he'll still be silent. Because Chris Keller is learning about Beecher. He's learning and he's exceedingly fascinated.

**Will always make a lover feel a fool**

Beecher doesn't bother to clean the place up. Keller will find the same shirts hung over the same spots for weeks at a time. The guy either lives in the dressing room or doesn't care to clean up. The decanter being clean and full seems to be the only thing in the guy's life that matters. Only when Shirley enters does Beecher come to life. She's another of the audience; Keller's a part of the symphony of destruction now.

**But you knew I loved you**

"I'm sorry. I don't think the room's quite hospitable enough for a lady such as yourself." Beecher's voice is full of gravel, as though he's not used to speaking.

Shirley leans on one of the arms of the couch as daintily as possible. "It's all apart of evening's festivities, I suppose. You're a fine singer, Mr. Beecher."

"Why thank you."

**We could have shown them all**

"What I mean to say is…who represents you? Do you have any victrola records I could purchase?" Shirley's eyes are looking for an excuse to be here. Keller's purely delighted.

Beecher thinks about his response for just a moment before shaking his head. "This is just a hobby."

"Well, what do you do?" Beecher blinks sadly and Shirley continues to form the question in a polite a way as she can muster. "What do you support yourself with?"

**We could have seen love through**

"If music be the food of love, play on." That's the best response Beecher can come up with. Keller takes the hint. It confirms suspicions that he's had all along.

"That's so beautiful. Did you write that?" She tilts her head and extends her hand. "My name is Shirley…well, just call me Shirley."

Beecher takes the hand, noting the ritzy gloves. "I can't take the credit for it, no. Now, I do hate to cut this fun time short but the life of an artist is quite..." Beecher glances over to Keller, "private."

Shirley stiffens in her seat. "Oh, I see. Well, then, I best be on my way. Mr. Keller?"

Chris catches her gaze and blinks, undisturbed. "You know where the cab companies are."

"You're not going to escort me home?" Shirley's voice rises slightly in alarm.

"Nope. I gave you the information you required. Our business tonight is done."

Shirley hurries to exit. She turns to Chris from the hallway. "We'll see when our business is done, Mr. Keller. It was a pleasure Mr. Beecher."

Beecher nods with a weak smile as she turns on her heel and hurries toward the exit. Keller kicks the door closed at the hinges with one of his feet. He stands there, delighted and waiting for a response. He doesn't have to wait long.

**Fooled me with the tears in your eyes**

"What the hell was that all about?"

"Ah. So Toby does have other feelings than despair. Let's root around a little and see what kind of anger I can dig up."

**Covered me with kisses and lies**

"I don't appreciate you calling me Toby. We don't know each other that well."

Chris goes to sit on the couch. He reaches for another apple. "Well, that's not exactly my fault, is it?"

"This is my dressing room, Mr. Keller. Get out." Tobias bears his teeth a little for good measure.

**So bye, but please don't take my heart**

Chris shakes his head in response. "Nope, still anger. And what are you going to do about it? Are you going to call Schilly to have me taken away?" Beecher stands stock still for a moment before Keller responds. He goes back towards his mirror and bottle. "I didn't think so."

After two shots of whatever amber liquid is in the container, Beecher finally speaks again. "Do you mind telling me what you're still doing here?"

Chris bats his eyelashes innocently. "I'm a fan. Can't I bask in the glow of your presence?"

Beecher explodes, sending some sort of container flying into the wall. He snarls at Chris. "Liar! What do you want?"

"Passion. I like the passion."

"You want to see passion?"

Chris stands and walks over to the fuming Beecher. "Yeah. I do."

It was when Chris leaned in for the kiss, nose to nose and the smallest of millimeters from the lips that he feels the force of Beecher's hands pushing him away. He falls back towards the couch. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Chris shrugs. "Giving into a bit of temptation. That's not crime, you know. And it's not as though I were the only willing participant in the adventure…"

"Get out."

"You know, my apartment's not much, but it's got a bit more room if you'd like to continue this conversation…"

"Fine." Beecher snorts, grabbing for his jacket in a huff and barreling down the other end of the stage toward the back exit.

Keller looks around in the aftermath of his exit and shakes his head. He knows Beecher will be back only because he has nowhere else to go.


	3. Chapter 3

It was actually witnessing the scene of the crime that meant the most to Chris Keller. He was the clean-up crew. He was the runner, the dodger. He was never the person first on the scene. Chris relished the scent of fresh blood for a few seconds before coming to his senses.

**You are far**

Beecher was just standing over Sally's body. He was stock-still, shocked into madness. He wasn't mumbling or crowing victoriously. He just stood there with the dripping sounds cascading down all around him. The rain was already beginning to soak the blood and wash it away. But it wouldn't be long and Keller needed to act quickly. The gears had already begun to turn. It was like a gift, really. A dark and twisted gift, but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

**I'm never gonna be your star**

"Beecher." It had been raining all day and it wasn't any surprise to Keller that Beecher turned with a look of unwavering sadness to his eyes. He was drenched and that curl near the back of his hair was threatening to take the entire sodden rat look over the edge. His coat had been thrown off onto the couch back in his dressing room and now he was soaked to the skin. Beecher dropped the large shard of glass in his hands. Keller scooped down and grabbed for the piece of glass that Beecher had held onto tightly, his fragile life slipping away. "We have to go now."

**I'll pick up the pieces and mend my heart**

Beecher grasped some semblance of his humanity. "My coat," he breathed heavily through his hesitant words.

**Strange that I was close enough to think you'd love me too**

Chris nodded. "We'll come back for it."

It only occurred to Beecher after half a block that he should ask exactly where they were going. "Keller…"

"We're going to my place. They won't look for you there. I've got some connections, make some calls downtown."

**You must have been kissing a fool**

Beecher wasn't sure he needed to know more. Correction, Tobias knew that he didn't want to know more. Except perhaps, whatever it was inside himself that kept his knees moving smoothly enough to follow Keller's sharp gait.

**I said you must have been kissing a fool**

Private detective Keller's apartment looked exactly as Beecher envisioned it. He was no stranger to his own chaos and, if not for the fact that all the objects were foreign, Beecher would have sworn that he were standing in the midst of his own dressing room. _The dressing room_, Beecher thought sadly, _where all the woe began and ended_. His private, tragic little tale yet to tell.

**But remember this, every other kiss**

"Do you need to sit? I wouldn't want you to faint on me." Beecher continued to look around the room. He could see the bed through an opening in the wall, the scratched couch covered in newspapers. He sat at the small table piled with cigarette butts and smoldering ashes, one lone plate testament to the bachelor status of the place. A pork chop bone sat, lonely and gnawed through. "You could sit on the couch." Keller muttered with a bit of exasperation.

Beecher just shook his head and stared out into nothingness, beyond the dingy walls of the apartment of the man who had been, for all intensive purposes, stalking him.

**That you'll ever give, long as we both live**

Keller looked hesitantly at Beecher from where he stood in the kitchen. The large piece of glass moved from the pocket to the ledge where the opening of the kitchen was divided from the rest of the apartment. "I'm going to call a pair of brothers I know in the police department with an anonymous tip about the murder. The Reilly boys will know what to do. If you need anything…"

Beecher shook his head, finally moving in some form. He clasped his hands together tight until his knuckles turned more white and pale than his cheeks after the blood had rushed away. He was still sitting in wet clothes, his hair dripping slightly on the carpet. Tobias Beecher had just killed a woman and he couldn't bear the thought of movement.

**When you need the hand of another man**

Keller hung the phone up, having successfully relayed the situation to Ryan, who would ultimately use the tip to frame Schilly for Sally's murder. Keller took tender steps toward Beecher, concern filling his eyes and movements.

"Hey, you're going to be okay. We're going to get you through this."

Beecher flung himself backwards violently into a standing position. "How? I've…I've killed someone!"

**One you really can surrender with**

"Keep your voice down."

"Her blood is on my hands! It's not excusable! I should be thrown in prison! I should be…"

Keller's hand clamped down over Beecher's mouth in mid-stream. Toby's eyes opened wide, his breathing becoming panicked. "Shhh." Keller began in soothing and yet determined tones. "I said to keep your voice down. The walls are relatively thin here. Now, what I need you to do is to not panic. I said I would take care of you and I will. Now, I'm going to remove my hand and you're going to calm down. Right?"

Beecher nodded and Keller reluctantly moved his hand away. "But I…"

**I will wait for you like I always do**

Keller grimaced as he re-clamped his hand over Beecher's mouth. "Let's not do this all night, huh? You know what you've done. I'm rather curious as to why, seeing as how I've never gotten a reaction larger than pissy annoyance from you. Maybe we change out of the drenched clothes too at some point. But, man, you've got to hold yourself together. Because I'm sure as hell going to find something to stick in that mouth of yours if you don't tighten it a little better."

This time Beecher made no protest when the hand covering his mouth was removed. "Clothes might be a good idea."

"Yeah. We don't need pneumonia on top of this shit." Keller pointed toward the bedroom. "There are some fresh towels on the can to wipe down with and my clothes might fit you…"

Beecher was already halfway through the opening, before he realized there was no door to close. "Not many visitors?"

Keller nodded. "That and I've got nothing to hide."

**There's something there that can't compare with any other**

Beecher was grateful for the door that at least closed to the bathroom. The bathroom was cleaner, as long as you stretched the word a bit, than the rest of the apartment. Two towels hung on a nearly-dilapidated rack above the toilet that was making hissing noises that Beecher was sure weren't very good. He just shook his head, picked a towel, and dried off. He peeled off his clothing and hung them over the tub to dry. He hoped Chris wouldn't mind. He reached for the doorknob, just remembering that he was stark naked in a frighteningly nice man's apartment. He grabbed both towels.

Chris Keller didn't miss the opportunity of a lifetime. He was aware from his activity in the kitchen that Toby was half-naked as he tried to make some of Chris' clothes fit his frame. It wasn't an exceedingly different frame, just a different man in a stranger's clothes. Chris respected his privacy as he tried for a fumbling walk back to the bathroom with an assorted pile of clothes. He thought he may have seen some skin, but Chris couldn't be sure. And he wasn't the type to dwell on it.


	4. Chapter 4

"You hungry?" Keller stated, looking down at the plate as he slid the almost burnt grilled cheese sandwich down from the large fork. "It's not much…but it'll do for now."

"You're going to pretend everything is okay." Beecher sounded just as stunned as his body language conveyed as he watched Chris pile two more sandwiches on the plate and then walk the plate towards the table.

**You are far**

"It's just grilled cheese. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to change out of my wet clothes and then we'll talk a bit." Chris was startled by the sallow figure before him. Tobias was more lean than he could have anticipated, nearly swamped in the tightly-built detective's clothes. It was startling, but Chris was sure that it would cease not being his business before too long.

Chris had no shame about his body and was quite proud that he caught Toby sneaking glances once or twice as he slowly stripped in the bathroom. Chris chuckled to himself as he saw that Toby had tried to tidy up his towel and clothing. Chris merely stripped and tossed the stuff in the bathtub to be taken care of later. He swaggered from the bathroom, naked as a jaybird. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Toby wolf down the sandwiches in a manner that suggested he'd choke on them before they got a chance to dance off the plate.

**When I could have been your star**

Keller finally walked back into the room as he was pulling a dingy white shirt down over the top half of his frame. The suspenders attached to the navy blue pants dangled down a bit below the shirt. "Careful, Toby. You'll choke eating like that. It's not going anywhere."

Toby coughed. "I feel like I haven't eaten in months."

Chris raised his eyebrow. "Finally, an honest answer."

**But you listened to people**

Toby shrugged. "You're keeping me from prison. I owe you that much."

Keller ignored the rumbles of his own tummy. He swung out a sturdy wooden box of some kind and sat near Toby. "Who was the girl?"

"Sally? A friend of the ex-wife. She was trying to frame me for more money."

"For more money?"

**Who scared you to death and from my heart**

Toby nodded, uncovering an unpleasant memory in the form of a wince. "I'm working at the club while Schillinger pays my child support. I can't find another job. I don't really have any skills to speak of."

Keller whistled. "That's rough."

"Well, I guess Sally thought that she could claim I was having an affair with her and get more. I don't have more. I don't even have…"

Keller's hand reached over Beecher's before he had a chance to snatch it away. "I know."

"How long?"

"There were plenty of signs you were living in your dressing room."

**Strange that I was strong enough to think you'd love me too**

Toby nodded. "MacManus is a good man as long as you stay out of his way."

"Is that what all the booze was about?"

Toby grimaced. "Bad memories, a bad life, a shithole of a town. Take your pick, Keller. It's all an excuse."

Chris shrugged. "Sounds like a valid excuse if you ask me."

"No one's asking…sorry. Old habits die hard."

**Guess I must have been kissing a fool**

Chris just gave Toby sort of a half-grin. "So stay here while this blows over."

Toby shook his head with slight conviction. "No."

"Why not, man?"

"You've been stalking me."

"No, I've been studying you."

Toby felt uncomfortable. "I'm not a gorilla at the zoo."

"That's not what I meant. I meant, ever since that first night, I've been learning about who you are and what makes you tick. You're the most fascinating person I've ever met, Tobias."

**You must have been kissing a fool**

"You didn't call me Toby."

"I thought you hated that."

Beecher simply blushed, finding his bare feet incredibly interesting. "Your hand is still on top of my mind."

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Keller drew up closer to Beecher, breath on the back of his neck.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"My wife never even liked being that close to me."

"Can't imagine why. There's so much to get close to…but not the alcohol man. That shit's got to stop."

Toby nodded solemnly as Chris tried fixing some strands of Toby's hair. "I've never had a reason."

Chris moved his hands from Toby's hair to Beecher's chin before directing Toby's face to meet his eyes. "Well, now you do."


End file.
